The Return of Dracula
by The Writer0214
Summary: Book-based. Dracula is mysteriously ressurected by the Scholomance, and Harker, Seward, and their sons must stop Dracula once again. Also, Quincey Morris returns as a vampire. Plus other vampires to watch out for. Inspiration came after I watched a play..
1. Chapter I

The Return of Dracula

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing.

**A/N:** This is a story that's been sitting around in my head for awhile, now. Arthur Holmwood is dying and Van Helsing is long gone. So Godalming passes on the "tools of the trade" to his son and his friends' sons (Seward and Mina and Jonathan Harker's sons). And there's gonna be a twist concerning Quincey Morris.

_Quincey Harker's journal 17, May. Noon._ – I have now packed my belongings and am ready to go. Each summer, we would spend our breaks at either Uncle Arthur's estate, Uncle John's estate at Carfax, or at ours. Charles has already packed his bags, as well. This summer, we are all staying at Uncle Arthur's. Charles says that Uncle John's services may be needed, as Uncle Arthur is slowly wasting away.

I asked Charles what Uncle John's prognosis was. He said it was asthma—and so Charles agrees. After all, he wants to be a doctor like his father.

After the summer is over, Charles Seward and I shall part ways—he to take up medicine, and I to go to the seminary. Father agrees that I should be a preacher, although Mum has her own thoughts on it.

I write this in the carriage as we drive away from Stanford. I can see its majestic grounds getting smaller and smaller in the background as we go.

Charles and I are both anxious to know how Uncle Arthur fares. Everyone is concerned about his failing health. Mum is concerned about him, so is Dad. Mum is like a sister to Uncle Arthur—so I'm told.

Mother and Father say that their bonds with Uncle John, Uncle Arthur, and Uncle Abraham—though he has long since passed—bless his soul, have grown stronger through the years, since they first came together to rid the world of a demon who walked the earth. Dracula was his name.

I, myself, do not believe such stories. I think Mum and Dad only made that up to scare us as children when we would not go to sleep at night. Preposterous!

We are now nearing the station. I may be able to continue writing in the train or not. Perhaps I shall sleep in the train. In any case, I shall write later.

___

_Quincey Harker's journal, cont.—Later_. We arrived at Uncle Arthur's estate at four o'clock in the afternoon. We had tea in the garden, and it was a delight to see Mary, again, after so many years. Such a sweet girl! She is a sister to me—as Mum is a sister to Uncle Arthur. Lucy—who was named after—Mum's bosom friend, was also present. Charles teases me about Lucy. He thinks Lucy is infatuated with me! How absurd! I have never heard a more ridiculous idea in my life! Arthur was also there with us in the garden, that afternoon. My two younger sisters Elizabeth and Wilhelmina were also there. John—Charles's younger brother was also with us, that day.

It was a great comfort to us all to be in the presence of friends and family, especially in times like these. Uncle John is of the idea that Uncle Arthur may expire any day. In that case, we must keep watch—all of us—together. Uncle John fears some dreadful thing might happen. In any case, it will do us all a world of good to be by each other's side.

___

_17, May. Evening—_As the girls were off talking somewhere, Arthur, Charles, and I, went into the library to have a talk of our own. We talked and smoked our cigars, and in that moment, when we were alone—all three of us—Arthur broke down into sobs.

He poured his heart to us—how he was anxious for his father! It wrenched my heart to hear those wails!

Charles and I took him in his arms as he shook and sobbed. He could no longer bear the strain—with Uncle Arthur's imminent death.

"God!" he cried, "I cannot bear to see him waste away! I have not cried these past days. If I did cry, it was in the comfort of my own room where no one could see me. Oh, God!"

"We are brothers, Arthur," I said, assuring him, "And we will continue to be your brothers in these times—Charles and I."

At this, Charles nodded.

Then, quoting from Uncle Abraham, I said, "We must first cross the bitter waters before we reach the sweet."

He thanked us both and we embraced each other—all three. It was quite a sight! The epitome of brotherhood! Three men—embrace each other in the midst of sorrow and tribulation. Tears fall, even now, as I write this in my journal! God, how these pages are stained with ink and tears! I cannot bear to write more of this... I must stop or I shall burst!

___

_Dr. Seward's Diary (recorded on phonograph)_—Arrived at Hillingham, nine o'clock. Winslow the butler ushered me into Arthur's bedroom. I found him quite rested but in the worst of conditions. He is slowly wasting away. He inquired of Mina and Jonathan. I answered that I have not seen them these past few days but that I may know how they fare when I ask Elizabeth, Wilhelmina, or Quincey. Poor chap! His condition has worsened—he does not even know that Charles, Quincey, Wilhelmina, and Elizabeth are here, keeping vigil!

I am assured, however, that there is nothing supernatural in Arthur's illness. I see no bite marks on his neck to indicate being bitten by a vampire. Besides, we have long-since banished their demonic master from the face of the earth! Still, still... I cannot shake the feeling that something of the sort will happen. I can feel it in the air! I have been introduced to these things, once, and I cannot deny it! I _know_ it! God help us all if there be danger!

___

_Telegram. Seward, Hillingham, to Harker, Exeter._

"Can feel something strange and demonic in the air. May be my imagination. Come to Hillingham in any case."

_Telegram. Harker, Exeter, to Seward, Hillingham._

"You are not alone. Can feel it too. Strange presence in the air. Mina knows—positive about it."


	2. Chapter II

_Charles Seward's Diary_

_17 May, evening._—After Arthur had cried his heart out, Quincey and I stayed in the library while he (Arthur) went to look for Elizabeth. A propos, I said to Quincey, "Would you not think that your sister is right for Arthur? After his father dies, he may need some comfort. Of course, we are there for him—but there is something different about a woman's ways of comforting."

"Yes," said Quincey, "I believe so—you are right in saying that. I see no reason why Arthur cannot marry Betsy. After all, my sister has been head over heels in love with Arthur ever since she was five years of age. I shall be happy to be Arthur's brother-in-law—if Betsy will not object. Father and Mother—I think—will be happy as well."

"Well-said!" I replied, "I could not have said it any better, myself. And I see a wedding going on between you Lucy Holmwood!"

At this, he laughed, and said, "Will you never cease to tease me about Lucy? Good God, Charles Seward!"

After our little round of laughter, everything became still again. Who were we fooling? We were only trying to be cheerful. But who can be cheerful in this house of death! God forgive me for saying such a word! But everything seems to be dismal! I feel as though it were winter and not summer...

Presently, Quincey picked up a book, lay on the settee, propped up on his left elbow, and began to read. I, on the other hand, continued puffing at my cigar. We had to keep vigil—all of us. That was Father's admonition. "Watch and pray, lest we fall into temptation," so says Quincey Harker, jokingly. I, however, take Father's words seriously.

I feared I was falling asleep and so I shook myself. I said to Quincey, "I have heard Uncle Jonathan and Aunt Mina say that the Harkers are part Irish, part Scottish, and part British. Is this true, Quince?"

He looked up from his reading and said to me, "Yes, of course! A great part of our family's ancestry is Irish, who, in turn, intermarried with the Scots. After the Scots intermarried with the Irish, their offspring, in turn, intermarried with the English. Father is a product of such a union. My paternal grandmother is British, while my paternal grandfather is Irish."

"Ah!" was all I could say.

"Apropos," Quincey said, suddenly, "I heard the Sewards were of French ancestry?"

"Partly French," I said, "Not full-blooded French but half. A great deal were British. Only a few were French."

"Do you fence?" he inquired.

"Do I what?" I asked, not quite sure of what Quincey said.

"I heard Frenchmen were skilled swordsmen. Especially the Gascons—of which I hear the Sewards came from," said he.

"Indeed," I said with a gulp, for I have not touched a rapier in a long while. But to keep from falling asleep again, I picked a rapier hanging on the wall and threw it to Quincey. Then I picked the other and advanced toward him.

"Well now," said he with a nervous chuckle, "It was only a jest, my good man!"

"No," said I, "Let us parry that we may drive away any remaining drowsiness."

___

_Charles Seward's Diary. Cont._—Sweaty and panting, we ended the match with a draw. Suddenly, the doors flew open and in came Winslow.

"Master Charles Abraham Seward, sir?" he called.

"Yes, Winslow?" said I, turning to face him.

"Lord Godalming has seen his children and shall see you next," he announced.

I looked to Quincey. The same horror was in his eyes.

"Could this be the end?" he whispered sharply in my ear.

"I don't know," said I, "Perhaps it is. We must prepare, in any case."

But prepare as we might, we could never shake the fear that those words struck into our hearts.

___

_Quincey Harker's Journal._

_18 May, One o'clock.—_Charles and I each went to his own room, tidied up, made our toilette, then entered Uncle Arthur's room. I shook hands with Uncle John and greeted Father. It is no surprise that Father is here. He might have been called in by Uncle Arthur or Uncle John. After awhile, Uncle Arthur sent Uncle John and Father out.

Then, with his weak and feeble arms, he motioned for us to come closer. Charles and I approached, and he said, "Now, Quincey, my lad... Hand me over those two small caskets on the mantelpiece..." This, he said, with difficulty of breathing and in between gasps and coughs. What a sight! A poor old man whose health has been greatly depleted, panting, wheezing, and gasping for air!

I set the small treasure boxes down on the bed. Presently, he instructed me to open them. So I reached for the boxes and opened the lid of the first box gingerly. Inside was a silver crucifix, a pistol, a dagger, and a sachet. I opened the sachet, and to my surprise, found pieces of the Host, inside.

How I pitied the old man! It is the delusions of a dying soul! May Arthur forgive me for saying so—may God take him quickly!

What was I to do with these things?

As if in answer to my question, Uncle Arthur said, "These are your weapons against the evil Undead that walk this earth. Guard them well with all your heart. You're very lives depend upon it."

Then, he forced himself to get up, reached under the bed, and produced for me a bundle of papers, which he said, they all have kept safe for years.

"Quincey, my lad... Quincey... It is time for you to have these," said he, handing the note-books to me, "These are copies of journal entries from your father and mother... And from Lucy... and some letters... Read them all and acquire the knowledge that will help you overcome the Evil One."

He spoke with such conviction that I could not but believe him! My God! Could it really be so? Is all this true, after all? Mother and Father's journals! I must peruse these, at once! I once was blind, but now, I see...

Then, Uncle Arthur added, "Once, I did not believe such things, either. I thought your dear old Uncle Abraham mad. But I have learned from him. Let from me and your father, now, as we have learned from him of old."

His voice was filled with emotion that I repented of my unbelief. I took the box from him and departed when he had dismissed me. Now, I shall have time to peruse everything. No sleep shall befall me, this night!


	3. Chapter III

_Dr. Seward's Diary, cont.—_We took our turns keeping vigil by Arthur's bedside. Jonathan kept the first watch, while I kept the second watch. As I was sitting by Arthur's bedside, my back turned to the windows and fireplace, a strange occurrence happened.

A storm had broken, and rain splattered sickeningly against the windowpanes and against the glass. Lightning flashed and thunder rolled.

Presently, Arthur awoke with a start. "Morris," he whispered, hoarsely. I tried to pacify him and coaxed him to go back to sleep. But he raised himself with much difficulty and said, "Morris!" He was in a paroxysm of fear and terror! Panic gripped my heart!

I said to him, "Morris has been long gone, Arthur. Quincey Morris has passed on. He died in our final battle to save Mina's life and soul."

I administered an opiate, but by-and-by, he tried to rouse himself, once more, and repeated himself. "Morris!"

At that same exact moment, thunder crashed and lightning flashed, and wind swept into the room. The windows flew open and the curtains fluttered in the gusty wind like phantasms dancing in the night! The fire on the hearth was put out, and presently, I went to have a look—and to shut the window. By God, I swear I saw Quincey Morris's face in the window; he, standing without, in the pouring rain! He! As whole, alive, and as young as when we saw him last! I recoiled and tried to coax myself into thinking that my eyes were only playing tricks on me. Or was my mind going, like the minds of my patients at the ward? Perhaps I am working myself too hard! Was it the lightning? Yes, it must've been! For when another bolt from heaven flashed on the scene, I could find no trace of the late Quincey Pearce Morris. Could Arthur—with his words—have struck fear into my heart? A fear so strong that I imagined it materializing before me?

Dear God! Another thought formed in my mind! What if Arthur had been right? What if he had seen Quincey? Was it possible he was alive? Was Quincey alive?

That could mean—

Merciful Saviour! Quincey Morris has returned as the Undead! _Vampyre! Nosferatu!_ But how? How could this have happened? Had he been in contact with the Count before his death? Had he been in contact with Lucy? Good God! Quincey Morris has returned as a creature of the night—a demon! I must convey my thoughts to Jonathan and Mina that we may warn the young ones!

___

_Lucy Holmwood's Journal_

_18 May—_I woke up, this morning, with a start! Oh, what a dream I've had! I know it is foolish to believe such superstitions, but I believe something they call a succubus came to me, last night! I remember! I have seen her portrait hanging on the wall in the manor's oldest wing! Miss Westenra was her name, I believe. She was the first woman that Father ever loved.

She came to me in a dream, last night. She was surrounded by children—all of them—deathly pale! She said something to me about fulfilling my destiny! And the most horrid thing happened! I was frozen in my bed, unable to move—rendered paralyzed—when suddenly, she opened her mouth, bent down, kissed my neck, and bit into my flesh! Oh, God! It is horrid! I touched my throat to feel if there were any wounds. Thank Heaven, I found none!

I rushed to the library as soon as I had made myself presentable, and searched for any books we had that touched upon the subject of the succubae and incubi.

I found Quincey in the library, and what transpired between us was powerful enough to make me forget my dream of the previous night—to cast it aside!

When I had finished recounting my dream to him, he pulled me into a tight embrace and kissed me on the lips!

I tried to push him away and free myself from his grasp, but that only served to make him cling to me all the more! He lavished on me a stream of passionate kisses! I dare say I liked it! God, what am I saying? A woman of my station must not say these things!

But my heart is full of joy, at the moment! I feel as though I am afloat on a cloud! Oh, Quincey!

How he poured his love-making to me from his heart!

After he had lavished me with kisses, he drew me to himself, once more, and said to me, "Hush, darling! No demon will ever harm you. The Devil himself may try, but I am prepared to face him! Lucy, I love you with all my heart. Believe me, love. I have loved you ever since I could remember. And I will always love you. Always."

He pressed my cheek tightly against his, and oh! what comfort I felt at the feel of his skin against mine! His arms were wrapped so naturally around me that it felt as though it was meant to be there.

"Quincey," said I, whispering into his ear, "I love you."

I looked into his eyes and professed my undying love for him. I said, "I have always loved you, Quincey. Always, dearest. You don't know how many years I've waited for this! I love you. I was hurt every time you would hint that you only thought of me as a friend! Oh, Quincey! I love you."

At this, Quincey silenced me with another kiss. After a few moments, he broke the kiss and said to me, "My darling, I am truly sorry if ever I hurt you. If I said I saw you only as a friend, it was because I did not know how to act, and I feared making a fool of myself in your presence. I did not know how you would react. Would you return my love? Would you shun me?"

Whereupon, I impulsively kissed his lips. "Hush, darling," said I, whispering into his ear, "There is nothing to forgive."

After professing our undying love for each other, Quincey took my hand, kissed it, and led me over to the settee. We sat facing each other, his hand in mine. Suddenly, he stood up and moved to kneel on the parquet floor. Taking my hand and kissing it, he said, "Love, I wish to marry you. I can only hope that you feel the same. Would you do me the honor of being Mrs. Quincey Harker?"

At that moment, I felt as though my heart would burst with joy! "Oh, Quincey! I would want nothing more than to be your happy wife!" said I, "I love you. I will marry you. I will be your wife!"

At this, he kissed my hand, once more, and sat down beside me on the settee. We kissed; an expression of our newly-awakened love. The doors opened, and in came Winslow!

"Breakfast, madam!" he announced, "The others are waiting in the garden."

I turned, suddenly, and the butler must've seen my ire, for he tentatively withdrew.

"I am very sorry to disturb you, madam," said he, nervously, "But the others have been waiting for you and Master Quincey."

"It's alright, Winslow," said I, maintaining a calm voice, despite my apparent irritation, "At least have the decency to knock first, before you enter, next time." I smiled. The butler bowed and shyly withdrew, leaving Quincey and I to ourselves.

Presently, he returned and said, "Congratulations, madam. May you and Master Quincey be blessed with many a brood."

If only things were always happy! What with Father's impending death! Dear God!

___

_Quincey Harker's Journal_

_18 May, morning—_As I had promised myself—or rather, predicted—I did not sleep the entire night! I did not—forgive the pun—bat an eye! Good God! I would not have believed Father and Mother's stories, had it not been for the evidence before me! But still... Doubt lingers on in my mind. What if Father is mad? No! I cannot think he is mad! To say that he is mad would be to say that Mother is mad! And to say that Uncle John and Uncle Abraham are mad! And it would mean saying that Uncle Arthur was mad! Needless to say, Uncle Abraham was right when he said, "We have become God's madmen—all of us!"

So it is! It is true that the late Quincey Morris died saving Mother's life! It is true that a demon named Dracula had once walked the earth! Dear God! I would have dismissed them as bedtime stories were it not for Mother and Father's transcripts of their journals! And Uncle John's journals!

Mother was right. It was "a soul crying out to God." Renfield, Ms. Westenra, The Demeter, the wolf, everything... All of it is true. But how can this be true? I cannot seem to shake the dark clouds of doubt that arise in my mind! I am dazed! I am dazzled! Somehow, I feel in my heart that all this is the truth; but there is a part of me that is stubborn! I must find a way to kill this unbelieving part of me, as they have killed the evil incarnation of Ms. Westenra, on that night, decades ago...

Hold that thought! That gives me an idea! Later, I shall ask Uncle John to take me to Ms. Westenra's crypt—to validate proof that she had indeed died at Uncle Arthur's hands...

I shall try and broach the subject when I see him. _Hush!_ Here comes Ms. Holmwood!

___

_Later._—Lord! What a fool I was! Like the Apostle Thomas of long ago, I have now seen and believed! I have placed my hands where the wound was! After luncheon, I asked Uncle Arthur to take me to the cemetery where Ms. Westenra was buried.

On the way, I asked him to recount to me what had happened that night they freed her soul from that dreadful curse.

"Have you not read the journals?" said he, raising his eyebrow.

"I have," said I, "But I want to make sure. That is why I asked you to accompany me to the crypt."

(Lord! How my hands shake as I write this entry! My penmanship grows worse with every twitch of my hand!) Uncle John considered my answer, and as we drove, retold the story of Ms. Westenra's "true death."

Good God! How horrifying! It is just as Mum had recorded in the transcripts of all their journals! We alighted and pushed our way past the gates. We found the Westenra tomb with no difficulty and Uncle John opened the door to the crypt. God, how dismal! Everything seemed to be in a state of disrepair and neglect! I was aware of nauseous whiff of musty air—of dust, of mildew, of molds! I assumed that Uncle Arthur had not visited the crypt in a long time. I suddenly felt sorry for the old man! How he must've felt as he drove the stake into Ms. Westenra's heart! Oh! I pray to God that the same fate shall not befall Lucy and I! Oh!

I also felt pity for the memory of Ms. Westenra. To lie in such a state of neglect! But who could blame Uncle Arthur or Uncle John? Or even Mother and Father? Such a painful memory! I cannot blame them for neglecting the crypt.

Presently, after our eyes had been accustomed to the darkness, and I had gotten over the smell of dust, we descended the steps.

When we came to Ms. Westenra's sarcophagus, I helped Uncle John remove the lid. We also had to remove the lid of the coffin inside the sarcophagus. Lo, and behold! There it was! Dust and mold had gathered in the coffin, but I could make out—with the help of the lantern—a sharp, pointed wooden stake, decaying with age! A part of it had been sawed off—as has been recorded in the journals! Good God! It was there! I, a Doubting Thomas, have seen and touched the wound with my own eyes and hands!

I had come out of that crypt a changed man!


	4. Chapter IV

_Jonathan Harker's Journal._

_20 May, evening.—_Arthur's funeral was very moving. All of us were there; his friends and family. Indeed, since that day we came together to rid the world of a bloodthirsty demon, we have become one family. And Arthur's passing is a blow to us all! Young Miss Holmwood fainted with grief at the loss of her father... John Seward and I took her home and revived her with some brandy. Poor, dear girl! She is very attached to her father... Young Lucy is now asleep, and Quincey and Arthur are keeping watch. I shall sleep on the settee in the parlour, in the event that my assistance is needed. If what Seward says is true, then we must take all precaution!

Strange... I feel some presence in the air... There! I can feel it! Good God! I can sense the Count's presence! But how? How can _this_ be? We have vanquished him long ago! Could it be possible that the Count has come back from the dead? God help us, if it be so!

If the Count is alive, along with Morris, then there are two threats on the rise! We must keep the young ones safe—especially Arthur's daughters and mine...

___

_21 May, midnight._—I had fallen asleep on the settee, though how long I have been asleep, I could not ascertain. All I know is that horrors swam in my head all through the night! God! My imprisonment at the castle... The demonic vampire women... Quincey Morris... I swear I dreamt of Morris sucking the very life out of my daughter! And the Count bending over and feeding on Elizabeth's blood! Faugh! But I fear most for Lucy and Mary...

Presently, I shook myself from my sleep. Through heavy eyelids, I saw Mary Holmwood walking the corridor, in her nightgown. She was in a trance-like state. At first, I thought she would go out, as Lucy did when she was hypnotized by the Count!

Good God! She went into her sister's room! What on earth she did there was beyond me, but I had a vague idea as to what she might've been doing there...

I rose from the settee—or rather, tried to rise—to stop her! But for some unexplainable reason, I was paralyzed! I could not move!

A cold chill ran down my spine! Vampires cannot enter a house unless invited! God, have mercy! Yes, that's it! She must've opened the window! Miss Mary Holmwood came out of her sister's room, walked down the corridor, and disappeared out of sight, perhaps to go back to her own room...

I stood, rushed into Miss Lucy's room, and what I saw with my eyes chilled me to heart! There, bending over poor Lucy's body was Quincey Morris! The storm had abated but a thick white mist was pouring into the room through the windows. I whipped out my pistol and threatened to fire.

As I was about to shoot, I froze, yet again! He laughed an evil laugh! It was a laugh that could have come only from hell! My heart was telling me to shoot the monster that was before me, but my mind was saying I could not shoot an old friend—a brother-in-arms! Whether it was my heart or my mind that told me so, I do not know... Nor do I care, at this very moment...

I re-placed the pistol into my pocket and drew my crucifix! He snarled and recoiled! Then, He came out the way He—It—came in!

I shook the sleeping young men, violently, gripping their shoulders! I had it in my mind to chastise them for forsaking their charge!

"Wake up! Wake up!" said I to my son, as I shook him from his sleep, "This is what comes of forsaking your charge!"

He awoke with a start, and his crucifix fell and tinkled to floor. He stood there—dumb—for but a few seconds, letting the horror sink in.

Then, he rushed over to Lucy's side, shook her, and knelt by her bedside. He wept.

Droplets of blood were on Ms. Holmwood's nightshirt, on her pillow, and on the coverlet.

"Oh, Lucy! Lucy! I had prayed to God you would not suffer the same fate as Ms. Westenra," Quincey sobbed, aloud, "Oh, God! God! God!"

Has he read the journals, then? If so, God be praised! He may be of a great help to us if he has already read the journals—and believed what it says! My boy Quincey is sensible and shall follow every word of the journals to the last iota. He will know what to do.

Presently, Arthur Holmwood (the Third) awoke. Horrified at the situation, he knelt by his sister's bedside and wept. Then, he stood, looking around. He whipped out his pistol and shouted, "Who did this? Who did this?"

"A vampire," said I, but I was cut off.

"Vampire?" said he, "You've lost your mind, sir!"

"Have you not read the journals?" my son Quincey said, heatedly, in my defence, "Have you not taken into consideration all your father's instructions? It is all written in the journals! Read it for yourself to find out!"

"Forgive me," said Arthur, "I have been under strain these past days. I beg your forgiveness, Uncle Jonathan, Quincey."

The young man was sincere. If he was not, why would he have drawn his pistol to fire? Obviously, he believes the stories in the journals—which Quincey must've shared with him.

He sat back down in his chair and toyed with his crucifix. He fell silent.

Suddenly, we heard a gasp. It was certainly from the doorway. We turned, and there stood Dr. Seward, Charles, John, Mary, Wilhelmina, and Elizabeth.

"Good God!" Charles Seward exclaimed, "What has happened here?"

"Was it the Count?" Dr. Seward asked, his voice laced with dread.

"It was Morris," said I.

"We must give her a blood transfusion!" said Quincey.

I looked to Dr. Seward, and then to Charles, then to Arthur, and finally to my boy Quincey.

"Can it be done?" I asked, looking to Seward.

"Luckily," said he, "I have my equipment at hand. Who among you brave gentlemen would be willing to give her his blood, in place of the amount she has lost?"

All of us volunteered to give the poor girl our blood.

___

_Journal, Arthur Holmwood III._

_21 May, One o'clock.—_We were all in a frenzy, debating on whom should give his blood for Lucy. I spoke first, as I believe, I have a claim to be first.

"It is I who should give her my blood," said I, rather hotly, "After all, I am her twin brother. We have shared the same cradle from our infancy."

"I understand you have a claim, Art, but I'm afraid I must counter you. I shall give her my blood, for I am her fiancé. And as fiancé, I am to be her husband. I may not be her husband now, but I soon will be," said Quincey, standing up.

What demon possessed me to say I was happy to be his brother-in-law, I know not. All I know is that I have no desire, now, to be his brother-in-law. I do not wish Lucy to marry him!

Then, Charles Seward spoke up, "I shall give her my blood. She is like a sister to me, as I have no sister of my own."

"No," said Charles's brother John, "I shall give her my blood—"

But Uncle John cut him off, saying, "But my son, you are only fifteen. Your body will not be able to handle the transfusion. I will give her my blood. Arthur has been a brother to me in life, and the dear, little girl is as a daughter to me."

"I shall give her my blood," Uncle Jonathan said, "I have the same reason as that of Dr. Seward. I have always loved Lucy as though she were a daughter of mine. But, come! Let us not argue! She is losing blood, and we are running out of time!"

In the corner, the girls were crying, lamenting over Lucy's fate. Then, our sister Mary raised her head, spoke, and said, "I shall give her my blood."

We all looked at her, but she continued, saying, "I am responsible for this. If I had not opened the windows, this—Thing—would not have entered. Allow me to give her my blood as penance."

"If we are speaking of penance, then Arthur and I have the highest claim. We forsook our charge," said Quincey. He walked over to where I sat, laid a hand on my shoulder and added, "Come, now! You are her twin brother. You have more right to that claim than I, her husband."

I was moved by his speech, and I said, "Thank you, my friend. I shall do my best to save her."

We embraced, and he said, "We all shall save her."

"Come, now!" said Uncle John, "She is losing blood, and we are losing time."

And so it was that I gave my blood to Lucy.

I took off my coat, and rolled up my shirtsleeve. Uncle John prepared the equipment for the transfusion, and I said to Quincey, "You may kiss her."

He looked unsure, and so I nodded my approval. He approached her bedside, bent down, and kissed her softly on the lips. I turned, unable to watch.

After Uncle John had finished preparing the equipment, Charles helped him prepared me for the procedure. He took some gauze and applied alcohol to my arms, then injected the needle.

I write this while the transfusion takes place! God, I feel weaker, each minute! How long must this transfusion go on? But I had vowed to save Lucy's life! And I shall do whatever it takes to do so!

I feel so weak from the transfusion that...I cannot...write...any longer...


	5. Chapter V

_Miss Harker's Journal—22 May, midnight._ This house has become a lonely house, as of late. What with Uncle Arthur's passing and Lucy's condition! I stayed up, keeping watch over my beloved Lucy. Quincey peeked in through the doorway and said to me, "Will you be all right keeping watch over Lucy for the night? Or would you rather I stay with her? I can stay up with her, if you wish."

I could see that my brother is overly concerned for Lucy. I can see why! After all, they will be married soon—though when, nobody knows, as yet.

I turned to him and said, "Go, Quince! You may take your rest. Lucy is in good hands. She is safe with me. You may watch over her some other time. You are not fit, at the moment, as you have had but little sleep. You would be a better watchman when you are rested."

Presently, he entered the room, embraced me, and said in my ear, "Thank Heaven for you, darling sister."

Then, he walked over to Lucy's bedside and kissed her forehead, and after that, her lips. After having bid me good night, he left the room.

I kept watch over Lucy, as I sat in an easy chair opposite her bed. I pushed the chair closer to her bedside that I might be of assistance should the need arise. I sat in the chair, reading by the lamplight, when I heard a voice calling me! It was clear! It still rings in my ear as it did hours before!

"Elisabeta," it said, "Sleep, Elisabeta... Sleep..."

Mist filled the room, and I felt as though I were spinning! Lord! Everything went strangely dark! I collapsed as the darkness enfolded Lucy and I! Terror struck my heart! I was sure that I must have been asleep for a couple hours, when I heard the voice, yet again! It said, "Elisabeta... Rise! Elisabeta... Come to me. Behold! Your Husband and Master! I am He whom the Scholomance has resurrected. I am He that controls the weather... I am He that controls the beasts of the earth... I am the monster that living men would kill... I am He that loves you! I have crossed oceans of time...come to me..."

It must've been a dream! But try as I might, I could not wake myself from sleep! All at once, I felt myself rising to my feet, as though some unknown force were compelling me! Though where I was going, I knew not...

Half asleep, half awake, I wandered the halls of the Holmwood estate. I was being led somewhere, someplace...by this...this...this voice!

It seemed so familiar yet so strange to me! He spoke in some foreign language, but I understood him as though he were speaking English!

It was as if I knew his voice!

I ventured into the garden, and through the labyrinth, until I came upon a bench. I recall a wolf, howling, calling.

I was aware of some unknown yet familiar presence! I cold chill ran down my spine, and my heart was filled with dark horrors! Then, I saw...Him! Oh, the red eyes! The deathly pallor of his skin! The red lips!

He kissed my lips, and brought his own lips down to my neck! I could feel his lips... Oh, God! I could taste the blood from his mouth when he kissed me! I could feel his serpentine tongue churning, tasting my neck! I can still feel his sharp, canine teeth, tearing into the flesh of my neck! He...He drank my...blood...

Whether it was a dream or no, I could not recall. What I know is that I awoke on the marble bench in the garden, wearing only my corset! Where on earth was my nightgown? Had I walked about in my undergarments? Good God!

I awoke to find Quincey, Charles, Arthur, Father, and Uncle John, all gathered round... They were all holding up their crucifixes in their right hands, and their pistols on their left...

Presently, Charles came up to me and embraced me, ever so tightly, while Father and Arthur barked orders for the servants to search the rest of the grounds. Quincey left the group and joined the search. Although what they were searching for, I know not.

Charles whispered in my ear, and said, "Love, I was so anxious about you. Never wander off like that again. You scared me half to death."

I promised him that I will do no such thing again, and he kissed me. He was hurt when he saw me recoil. Oh! If he only knew of my dream...

Father and Arthur joined the search, leaving Charles and I to ourselves.

"Come," said he, taking my arm, gently, "Shall we go inside? It is not good for a young lady like you to be wandering about in the cold."

I took his arm and thanked him. What a gentleman he is! Thank God for men like Charles Seward!

He accompanied me back to the house, and sat with me in the parlour, while he requested for some tea.

What a comfort it is to be with Charles!

He comforted me to the best of his ability, and uttered soothing words to pacify my shaken nerves...

That is the reason why I love Charles Seward... But that voice... That voice... It sounds familiar...

___

_Quincey Harker's Journal._

_22 May, early morning.—_No rest has come to me, yet again. For when I had been asleep for nearly three hours, I felt as though someone had roused me, though no one had. It must have been intuition, for I felt in my heart that something had gone wrong. I rushed to Father's room, then to Uncle John's. They both said they were sure of a strange presence—as I was. We looked for Arthur and Charles, and we searched the grounds, looking for Betsy.

We scattered, searched the whole estate, until we came upon the labyrinthine hedges. We snaked our way through the maze, lost our way, until finally, we found poor Elizabeth, lying unconscious, in the arms of a demon from the pit! He raised his head when we came upon him, blood dripping from his mouth!

I knew by Father's description in the journal—the eyes, the red lips, the pale skin—I knew it was the Count! By God, I saw the scar which Father spoke of!

I could not believe my own eyes! None of us could!

I heard Father whisper, hoarsely, "In manus tuas, Domine!"

Uncle John crossed himself, and said, "The Count! But how?"

I was the only one among the group who had the presence of mind to raise my crucifix and train my pistol at him. The other's followed suit, but the devil of Hell vanished quickly into the darkness!

I heard Arthur and Father bark orders for a search of the whole estate. Charles Seward came forth and embraced Betsy, offering her words of comfort.

Presently, Uncle John and I came away to join the search, as did Father and Arthur.

By God, if the Count has returned, and Quincey Morris is on the loose, then we have more trouble than we had feared! What with Lucy and Elizabeth being bitten!

Good God! Lord, watch over our souls!

We must not trouble ourselves with this matter, at present. Today is the day Uncle Arthur has chosen for his will to be read. Father has the honour to do so, as Uncle Arthur has made him his personal lawyer.

We must wait until the reading of the will. That is why I write this in my journal. I must do something or I shall go mad! Charles has challenged me to a shooting match, but I am not up for it, as I am still weak from last night's exertions. And I am anxious for both Lucy and Elizabeth.

___

_Jonathan Harker's Journal._

_22 May, Two o'clock.—_After a bit of lunch, we proceeded to Arthur's study, where I was to read his will. The young Holmwood is to inherit his father's title of Lord Godalming. Also, he shall be entrusted the whole Godalming Estate, while Mary and Lucy shall each inherit the Westenra estate, and another located in Whitby.

Young Arthur shall receive £10,000,000 in notes and gold, while Mary, Lucy, Elizabeth, and Wilhelmina shall receive £50,000 each. Godalming has expressed in his will that Wilhelmina and Elizabeth are as daughters to him.

Charles and my son Quincey shall receive the same amount that Arthur has promised to his daughters and mine.

After the reading of the will, I dismissed all but Dr. Seward. I wished to speak with him in private.

There was a part of Godalming's will that I did not read out loud. It was addressed to me, personally.

In it, Arthur had told me to open his safe and pull out an old, worn-out letter. Seward and I are to read it.

I took out an old, yellowish piece of note-paper from Arthur's safe, read it, and looked it over, one more time, with Seward.

The paper had faded, as had the writing on it. It had three distinguishable tears in three areas of the paper. It had been folded, and appeared to have been pierced through with a knife. It was soiled and blood-encrusted.

My God! It was a memorandum from Morris! He must've written it before that fateful battle and concealed it in his shirt, knowing that the end was near. It was to serve as a warning to us. My God! Can this be? Can it be true? He knew of his own possible return and had tried to warn us!

___

_Memorandum, Quincey P. Morris, to Van Helsing ._

My friends:

I beg your forgiveness. We endeavour to save a soul, while my very own is lost. I am more lost than dear Mrs. Harker.

I have succumbed. Forgive me, Professor. I did not know better. Forgive me, Arthur. Forgive me, Jack.

It was the night we came to investigate Lucy's crypt—after we saw her in her demonic form. That night, she came to me in a dream.

Instinctively, I reached for my pistol and trained it at her—at It! Try as I might, I could not bring myself to fire at her! She advanced, and I dropped my pistol, and it clattered to the floor. She let out a laugh!

It said to me, "Make love to me, Quincey. You know you desire me. I know you desire me. Come to me, Quincey. I do not love Arthur. It is you whom I love. Forget Arthur. What matters is you and I, here, together."

She ran her hands up and down her body as she moaned! God! I was frozen! I was being hypnotized!

She closed the distance between us, and climbed into bed. She straddled my hips and began toying with the buttons of my nightshirt!

She said, once again, "Make love to me."

I swear to Heaven, I loathed her! But I could not resist! Forgive me... She undressed herself, and started unbuttoning my nightshirt! God, save me! I helped her undress me! Oh, God!

I made love to Lucy! While in the throes of our love-making, she sank her teeth into the flesh of my neck and drank my blood! God, it is all still clear to me!

She wounded her chest, and forced me to drink her blood, as we had witnessed the Count do to our dear Mrs. Harker!

God, my soul is lost! Once again, forgive me... Forgive me, Jack! Forgive me, Arthur! I know how much you both loved her! Forgive me, Harker—I have failed Miss Mina... Forgive me, Professor...

Sincerely,

Q. P. Morris


	6. Chapter VI

_Dr. Seward's Diary._

_22 May.—_I was appalled at what I had just read that I had to read it again, to make sure my eyes were not deceiving me! And yet... And yet... There it was! Quincey's confession! Written in his own hand! Wave after wave of emotion swept over me like a tsunami. I was drowning in so much emotion! Anger, jealousy, fear, hurt... What devil caused Quincey Morris to make love to Lucy! No, I must not think that way! It was not the Lucy that we knew! It was the demon Lucy!

Now, only fear plagued my heart. I tried to calm myself, for I was hyperventilating.

"Are you alright, Seward?" Harker asked of me.

"I'm alright. I was only shocked by this memorandum is all," said I.

I felt weak. My knees were watery. God save our souls...

___

_Journal – Arthur Holmwood II_

_Afternoon._ Last night's events brought about old feelings of jealousy—feelings which I tried to deny, to hide.

I shall now attempt to write what is in my heart—what I could not write the night it happened.

After Charles Seward, Quincy Harker, and I lamented over my father's demise, I went out of the library for a breath of fresh air, and to look for Betsy.

I found her walking in the garden—how beautiful she was! I walked up to her and mustered all the courage that I had.

"Hullo, Arthur," she greeted cheerily.

"Hullo, Betsy," said I.

"I am terribly sorry about your father's failing—" she stopped, for I suddenly kissed her, full on the mouth. I heard her let out a small groan and felt her endeavour to set herself free from my grasp.

I took a step back.

"What is it?" said I, my voice laced with worry and jealousy. Worry that she was ill. Jealous for fear that my suspicions had been true—that she loved Charlie and not me. Her lips quivered and her eyes moistened with tears.

"I cannot love you, Arthur," she whispered hoarsely.

"Why not?"

"Because I do not love you. I have chosen someone else. I cannot disobey what my heart dictates, Art."

"Your heart dictates that you love Charles Abraham Seward," said I, hotly, "But his heart dictates otherwise!"

"Who are you to know what is in his heart? He has been shy since our childhood! You yourself know that! He is—_was_—your bosom friend!"

It was true. Charles Seward was quite a shy lad. It was typical of him not to voice out what was in his very heart of hearts. I was filled with jealousy and anger. But how could I be angry at a man whom I had shared everything with, since childhood? I could not hate them both. I could never hate Betsy, nor could I hate my friend whose happiness is hers!

After I had apologized, and we chatted for a little more, I went to look for Charles. But we had no chance to talk, since Father called me into his room, and Charles and Quincey were fencing. Father also called them into his room.

The only chance I got to talk to him was before I retired to bed.

I said to him, "Charles, you know that Betsy loves you very much?"

"I am aware of that, yes. But you would make a better bridegroom," said he in response.

"No, Charles. It is you she loves, not I. Do you love her?"

"With all that I am."

"Then I shall not stand in your way. May the Good Lord bless you, and may you make her happy."

He smiled, thanked me, and retired to bed, as well. But before he slipped out of my room, he turned back and said, "Arthur Holmwood, do I still have your friendship?"

"Yes, of course," I replied with a smile, though my heart was heavy with jealousy—but not with anger for I could never be angry at both of them.

___

_Cont._—And now, I come to the events of last night. Uncle John, Uncle Jonathan, Quincey, and Charles woke me, begged me to rise and put on my clothes, and to help them look for Betsy. At this, I was alarmed! What on earth could've happened to her?

"What has happened? I hope to God nothing bad has occurred!"

"It appears to be the case, my lad," said Uncle Jonathan, whom I could see was quivering. Whether it was for fear or excitement, I could not tell.

"My God! Was it the vampire? Morris?"

"No," Uncle Jonathan said, sniffing the air like a bloodhound, "It is the Count!"

"Heavens!" I cried, for I had heard much of this vile Thing from Uncle Jonathan and Aunt Mina's stories, and from the journals that Quincey and Charles had shown me. We had perused these materials—together—all three of us, and by God, I confess, my skin crawled at the mention of the Count!

I grabbed my pistol and crucifix from my desk, put on my riding clothes, and prepared to look for Betsy and to eliminate this demon.

I had instructed the grooms and other servants to join the search for Betsy and to be ready with weapons in hand in case of an attack.

We searched the grounds and found no one. Finally, we found Betsy limp in the arms of the Count! His mouth dripped with her blood! It was also on the surrounding area of Betsy's wounds, and on the marble bench!

Quincey Harker raised his crucifix high, and we followed suit. We trained our pistols at the monster, but it had fled into the darkness! Uncle Jonathan and I barked orders to the servants to search the grounds for this beast! I am positive than none of the servants believed us. In any case, they may pack their bags, no matter how long they've lived here and served our family.

I saw Charles Seward come forth and embrace Miss Harker—I can no longer call her Betsy!—and offer her words of comfort.

I confess, at the sight before me, I felt a pang of jealousy in my heart. The one feeling I had been trying to conceal—no!—eliminate altogether!

I write this in my journal as I wait for Uncle Jonathan and Uncle John to adjourn.

I shall ask him some things regarding my inheritance and also regarding the vampires and the troubles that have thus far beset us.


End file.
